Throwing the Odds
by Vivian M. Halcyon
Summary: "Isn't it funny? The Girl on Fire allowed all of my dreams to come true. And then I played to close to the flames, and I lost everything I knew and held dearest in a wave of ash and smoke. Her fire consumed my dreams, and eventually, me." A story of the Capitol.
1. Chapter 1

Throwing the Odds

Part One: Utopia

Chapter One

_Katniss Everdeen allowed all of my dreams to come true. And then I watched as her fire consumed them. _

Everyone knows that the beginning of the end started with Katniss Everdeen, and the ever famous 74th Annual Hunger Games, but the Girl on Fire had a habit of burning the rest of the world down with her. I played too close to the flames, and lost everything I knew and held dearest in a wave of ash and smoke.

* * *

_In my world, the sun rose and then the sun set, and everyone ignored it. _

My world was the Capitol. And in the Capitol, everything was about modern convenience, the cutting edge, and the illusion of risk that was presented in trying to get these things before anyone else even knew about them. The subjects of the Capitol, a veritable Utopia of human creation and just shy of being the epitome of perfection, would beg and plead for the latest trend to fill their simple lives. I complied.

On occasion I have found people that colored my profession that of a crook, but to be blunt, it was more honest and difficult work than the majority of those that I associated with ever put forth. I merely used my skills in a manner that was profitable given the nature of my environment. And that was how I survived; even though my world, and my precious profit, is all but cinders now.

* * *

_I remember Amelia being pleasant enough, however irritating her voice modulations made her seem. She had a bit of a nervous habit that was pronounced in a shrill nervous laugh, but she kept her eyes the loveliest shade of sky blue. She had come to me that day to find out about a predictive implant, something that had recently gone through clinical. _

_ "You're the only one who can get me this before the Games start, Sync. I need it to open the betting pools with! The Reaping air's tomorrow afternoon."_

_ Honeyed words from a naïve girl that wanted to clip a profit out of the most intense and involved sport our sheltered society knew. I was much better at playing odds than she was, and even I knew enough to stay away from any wagering when the Games came around. _

_ "As luck would have it, I do know of someone who went through the clinical and may be… convinced to give her implant up. But I need at least a hundred thousand creds before tomorrow."_

And that was how I made my money. My people, friends or otherwise, were so consumed in their search for things, that more often than not, they didn't care what the cost was. And it wasn't until later that I realized, neither did I.

_I am so sorry._


	2. Chapter 2

Throwing the Odds

Part One

Chapter Two

_It is in memories that the flames still burn, and in the present the ashes suffocate. _

My mother was of typical Capitol stock, and quickly became an embarrassment to me once I had reached the tender age of eight. From then on out, I took pains to avoid and distance myself from her at any cost. Laverna, my mother, unaware of her own overbearing nature and drunken tendencies, took this as a sign of independence without a terrible amount of involvement.

_The last time I hugged my mother was on the day the 74__th__ Hunger Games began. _

With the slightest tap on the door her Avox came to answer it, and her voice pierced the front rooms over the intercom, "What are you waiting for Lucine? The first Reaping starts any minute!"

The house rang for a moment as the intercom shut off, and I hurried through the front room into the entertainment parlor. _If I had known then, I would have turned and run out of the house. _My mother had a soft spot for pillows, and there were at least fifty of them in the room, all but twenty propped somewhere along her person. She had her hair and makeup done, both color coordinated, but was still lounging in her pajamas.

Much to my surprise my brother was already in the room, and leaning against a tall mocha colored man that drew my attention immediately. None of us had ever had someone outside of the family join us for the Reaping's. My brother and his companion caught my stare, and my brother hopped up, "Lucine, darling, I love the new color! I never thought I'd see you in pink again. And a holo-code tattoo, very fashionable indeed this year."

"Amicus, it's good to see you. I appreciate the observation, but you're in white. I think that makes more of a statement than pink does. So, brother, who's your friend?"

And my mother, as my brother and his friend opened their mouths to answer my blunted question, grabs me in an unexpected hug from behind. Amidst the cloud of perfume and stale makeup, I could smell the alcohol on my mother's breath as she spoke, "Lucine, you just ignore your mother for weeks and then don't give me a proper greeting in my own home?"

By the time I separated myself from my mother, my brother and his apparent lover had resumed their silent entwinement on the opposite couch, and was watching the wall screen as the Panem national anthem came on.

The Games had been a unit of great excitement for my family for the majority of my life, the source of income that both my late father and brother operated on as bookmakers at the betting exchange. In my years of experience I had learned through experience that there was very little that could be considered important enough to interrupt the games. _If only I had turned the television off. _

The Reaping's went as they usually did for me, I tried to remember names for the first little bit, but then realized that I had forgotten them two tributes later. After District Six I stood up and stretched, retreating into the kitchen. Lightheaded from the glasses of wine my mother liberally poured out, I felt the need to be out of sight from my brother and his companion's cool brown eyes. I quietly contemplated the feeling that had blanketed me since my arrival as I poured myself a glass of water.

Something about the pair of them had wriggled under my skin. However, as I returned and saw them though, murmuring silently between each other amidst the announcements, guilt immediately crept through me. I was rude to hastily judge the two, and if even our mother did not object, who was I to complain.

As I observed and curled up on a plush loveseat, my mother leaned over, "You missed District Seven altogether! Not that they were very impressive mind you, but still. They were a blonde, shorter girl and a dark haired boy…"

"Mother, please?" was the curt response from my brother across the room. The District Eight male was being called, and Amicus was a mask of contemplation. To her credit, my mother did shut up after a few distasteful mumblings, and busied herself with another glass of wine.

District Nine was the one my brother had placed his money on last year, his strategy as a bookmaker and a gambler was to place his faith in a district as a whole. He held sway with some of the Gamemakers, as many bookies did, and more often than I thought was plausible, his chosen District pulled out longer than the others. My father had taught him well. However, last year was not his year.

* * *

I had begun to doze by the time District Eleven came on; somehow since my father's passing I had lost the passion for watching the games that he managed to put in it. It was always exciting, the air in the city changed and grew charged, but not until the tributes came to the Capitol.

So the first time I heard of Katniss Everdeen was when my mother woke my with a gasp and a small clap. Blinking awake, I saw the replay flash on the screen, captioned 'Volunteer from Twelve'. I witnessed the moment that would be the talk for days to come. The smallest palest little girl in the crowd, Primrose Everdeen, was called and silence took the screen for a moment, and suddenly a voice cracked through the air, "Prim!" and a moment later, "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

She was a better offer than her sister, to say the least, but looked as dirty and wiry as all the people from Twelve did to my pampered eyes. The announcer came back on, "An unexpected turn of events from the outlying district to say the least, we return as Effie Trinket calls forward the male Tribute."

I turned to look at the others occupying the room, and found my mother had begun to write a message, assuredly to one of the many friends about this dramatic event so early in the game. However I was surprised to see my brother's eyes lit up and carefully watching the screen. Turning back I had missed the male tributes name, but it was posted on the bottom of the screen, 'Peeta Mellark'. Surprisingly he seemed to be of decent size and stature for an outlying district, a face and a name I might actually remember. As the Panem anthem played, I stood and stretched, entirely uncertain as to how these games would play out.

My mother, never to be hindered in the flow of gossip, was immediately on the phone with one of her other friends, and I recognized a name that I believed to belong to the male tribute from four. It was the same thing every year with her, ever since Finnick Odair had snatched her heart nine years ago.

Amicus smiled at me, eyes lit with a fervor I had not seen in some time, "That was quite a surprise at the end. I think we can expect good things from the outlying districts this year."

His friend brightened, "Don't let me be a bad influence on your betting Amicus. I have no real impact on the games."

"Nonsense, you doubt the importance of stylists, especially with the crowds of Capitol women that will be dying to see this year's statements."

Suddenly I realized why my mother was complacent with our daily guest; he must have been one of the stylists involved in the upcoming games. I held my hand out, "Well, since my brother seems to be happy to leave me in the dark and entirely uninvolved, I will introduce myself. I'm Lucine, a student in marketing."

His friend chuckled and smiled at me, all perfect teeth and charms, "It's a pleasure Lucine, and I have heard a great deal about you. I'm Cinna, the new stylist for the District Twelve tributes."

"A sign that they underestimate his ability," Amicus inserted, however his face was unconcerned. I knew as well as he did that to be a stylist for the games was an honor no matter the district.

"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you Cinna; I suppose I won't have to warn you then that my brother will be disappearing for the next few weeks due to his involvement in the games. It seems as though you will be quite busy yourself."

"He has already been too busy; much of a stylists work is beforehand. He has only graced us with his presence today because of the Reapings." If I didn't know my brother better, I would have said he was attached. I hadn't even heard word of this Cinna from him until our meeting this afternoon.

All smiles and cheer, I glanced at the clock and made my excuses for the evening. It was late and exposure to my family made me more vulnerable than I would care to admit. I was an amateur dealer in the black market and an expert in the grey markets, vulnerability was something I preferred to avoid. I was surprised, however, when my brother took a phone call and Cinna offered to walk me outside.

The cool air felt good after the perfumed air of my mother's apartment. I could not pretend to be casual though, the awkward air grew with every passing moment.

Cinna broke the tension, and offered me a card, "I understand that you operate in the grey market from what your brother has told me. Now, don't look like that, I can assure you he has not disclosed too much, but rather I pieced some things together myself. I just wanted to let you know, if you should ever want to make a difference outside the Capitol, let me know. If not, I trust you will respect my dealings the same way I will respect yours."

And with those final, weighted words Cinna turned and went inside.

_I was a fool to take the card. Cinna was a fool to trust me. We all fell into the fire. _


End file.
